


Books of the Living, Books of the Dead

by poisontaster



Series: Books of the Living [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Has Powers, Drabble Sequence, Gen, Ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-31
Updated: 2006-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5138990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sammy isn't the only one with dreams. Dean just doesn't talk about his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Books of the Living, Books of the Dead

Sammy isn't the only one with dreams. Dean just doesn't talk about his. They're not…relevant.

With typical cosmic humor, Sam's the one that dreams of the living, but Dean only ever dreams of the dead. They never come with much; a few words—a message—sometimes a name.

Sam looks at him weird when he buys handfuls of postcards at every stop—ten for a dollar—but he never asks and Dean's glad. He transcribes their messages. There's never anything as useful as an address, but they seem satisfied when he sticks them unaddressed in mailboxes and lets them go.

 

**02.**

Dean is unsurprised the first time he dreams about Jess.

Seemed sort of inevitable, really. She _is_ dead, after all, and after years of dreaming strangers, he's sort of relieved to dream of someone he sort of knows.

Someone he actually wants to know, if only for Sam's sake.

He is disappointed she's not wearing that shirt, though. "I really did like the Smurfs," he says. "That wasn't bullshit."

Her grin is hellcat wicked, and Dean sees a little of what Sammy must have seen in her. "I know."

"I'm sorry you died."

She nods. "I know that too, Dean."

 

**03.**

The second Jess dream is a little unexpected; Dean doesn't normally get repeat performances.

"Was there something you wanted to tell Sam?" he asks. He should've done this the first time. Dreaming someone he's actually met sort of threw him.

Jess shakes her head. "Nah. I just thought we'd hang out."

"I don't think that's how it works."

"Do you know that for sure?"

Dean scratches his head. "Well… No."

Jess's hands spread. "There you go." She pats next to her and Dean sits. "He used to sleep with a knife under the pillow," she says. "I never knew why."

 

**04.**

"Good to know you didn't let all your training go to waste while you were out there with the surfer kids in California hugging trees," Dean says, without really thinking. "I mean, I don't know how much good a knife under the pillow would _be_ , if the fit really hit the shan, but at least you weren't walking around just dick in hand. Makes me proud, Sammy."

Sam looks at him really strangely. "What are you talking about?"

The words, "Jess told me…" are on his lips before Dean remembers.

He doesn't talk about his dreams. Not even with Sam.

 

**05.**

"He'd talk about you a lot," Jess says without preamble, the next dream he has. "I mean, he'd never really _tell_ me anything, but you were in there. It used to drive me nuts."

Dean sighs. "This has got to stop."

"What do you mean?" She wrinkles her nose.

"I mean," he waves his arms, "you're _his_ girl! Shouldn't you haunt him or something? I just take messages and then they go away. That's how it works."

Jess sniffs. "Shows a lack of imagination, you ask me. Besides, Sam can't see me." She pauses. "He missed your pancakes, you know."

 

**06.**

Dean glares. This is all Sam's fault—that Jess is now haunting his dreams. It never used to be like this. He wants to ask Sam all sorts of questions. Like:

_Did you really have an ear infection so bad they thought you might die? Did you really come in second in a hotdog eating contest sophomore year? Did you really buy me a Christmas present and it came back 'address unknown'?_

And: _Oh my God, dude, does she ever shut up? I don't know how you dealt with it._

"What?" Sam asks, defensive.

Dean realizes he's been glaring. "Nothing."

 

**07.**

"He wanted you to come with him."

They'd been talking about other things, Dean and Jess; how Sam and Jess met (Sam gave the beat down to a guy getting too handsy) how Sam told the best stories at the Halloween bonfires, how the only pictures he carries in his wallet are of Jess and Dean.

So Dean doesn't think it's unreasonable to be a little gobsmacked when she hits him with that one. "Wha…what?"

"He wanted you to come with him. To California. To Stanford."

"He told you that?"

Jess shakes her head. "No. I found that out later."

 

**08.**

At the next town, Dean ditches Sam and looks up a witch he knows.

"Hey," Shaya says. She doesn't seem surprised to see him. She never does.

"Hey."

He tells her about the dreams; two weeks of dreaming about Sam's girl behind Sam's back. It feels weird and vaguely shameful. It's not usually like this.

"Well, it's not a spell," Shaya tells him finally, after consulting with various roots and spirits.

But Dean knows that. He knows what his dreams are like. Doesn't mean he didn't hope different, of course. "So what do I do?"

Shaya shrugs. "Don't know. Wait?"

 

**09.**

Dean tries just not sleeping for the next few nights; you know, to break the cycle. But by the time Sam finally blows up at him and forces him into bed, Jess is there waiting, looking vaguely reproachful and Dean feels a little ashamed. Not that he believes in shame, you understand.

Jess gets her revenge by telling—in exhaustive detail—the hows, wheres and whyfores of her and Sam's sex life. That's the thing about dreams; even covering his ears doesn't help.

He does try out the little thing with the tongue flutter she told him about though. _Damn._

 

**10.**

The moon is waning when Jess ruffles Dean's hair fondly and says, "So I guess this is it then, huh?"

"What do you mean?" This is not dismay he feels. Jess drives him _crazy_ with her incessant chatter. Sam always said _Dean_ talks too much, my God.

"Aw, Dean, you're so cute when you pretend not to understand." She ruffles his hair again; he ducks away, irritated.

"So…wait; I don't get it. Do you have something you want me to tell Sam or not?"

Jess pats his cheek, smiling fondly. "Oh sweetie, Sam really _is_ the brighter brother, isn't he?"

 

**11.**

It's been a really long festering bastard of a day. They're sitting at the drop-off. Sam leans on his hands, his face upturned to the dying sun. Dean whets their knives. The simple monotony is soothing, counterpoint to the too-fast beat of his heart. He doesn't do this; this isn't him. Except he can't forget his dreams—a lunar month's worth of Jess's reminiscences and after-the-grave observations. It feels like he should repay them in something like kind.

"I missed you," he says finally, striving for offhand. "When you were gone."

Sam blinks. Then, slowly. "I missed you too, Dean."

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of those burst from your forehead, pretty much full formed bunnies. I started with the (to me, at least) sort of amusing idea of Dean taking messages from the dead and sending them out on semi-anonymous postcards, and then realized there was at least one dead person that it might be really helpful/significant for Dean to actually have a conversation.


End file.
